


Faraway Gasp

by TwistedViolets



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Accidents, Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, Scapegoats, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:42:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24313717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwistedViolets/pseuds/TwistedViolets
Summary: Klaus was always taking the blame for his siblings’ mistakes.
Comments: 14
Kudos: 261





	Faraway Gasp

**Author's Note:**

> I had a terrible day today so I decided to go through my old writing. I actually liked this one, I guess, although I wish I had written more. It was written almost a year ago so cut me some slack if it isn’t perfect~
> 
> I don’t know if there are any tags in particular I should add with this-but let me know if you think it’s missing any. It’s pretty light I think.

Klaus spit the half raw hamburger into his napkin and scrunched his nose up. He watched his siblings do the same before a similar conclusion is reached. They are terrible cooks, which is exactly why their mother had suggested cooking lessons.

Obviously not even her gentle words were enough to teach them. Klaus glances over at the hamburger on his father's plate and contemplates just throwing it away before he even got here. At least then they might not scold them as hard. It's better to do nothing than to completely fail.

"That's nasty." Diego said pushing his chair out and standing up before walking behind Klaus to most likely throw his plate away.

"I conquer." Five mutters downing his glass of water.

Klaus sighs and pushes his plate away while their father makes his grand entrance. Everyone straightens their back and attempts the art of silence which is thankfully a art they've all mastered.

His father looks them all over but seems satisfied at their appearances. He leans his cane against one edge of the dinner table and pulls out the chair.

A yelp pierces his ears and at first he throws his hands over his them. The first thought is always that it's something that only he can hear but as his father changes course he realizes that he's not the only one. He tilts his head to see Diego clenching his right hand and small amounts of redden flesh are occasionally visible.

He's burned himself.

Tears well up in Diego's eyes but he just bites his lips. His burnt fingers twitch and Grace grabs his hands to run them underneath cold water. The relief washes over him.

His father narrows his eyes at the stove which was unoccupied, had been since they finished cooking. His hand goes to the back dial and turns it off. "Which of you imbeciles forget to turn the stove off? This isn't a hard concept." he lectures as he turns his harden gaze on to them.

"Klaus." 

He narrows his eyes at Allison who had been the only one to touch the stove and yet here she is blaming him. 

This isn't his fault. 

He turns his gaze back to his father and opens his mouth to defend himself. "Absolutely not." His father doesn't give him a moment to speak before gesturing to follow. He stands with a frown on his face.

"It wasn't me."

His father ignores his pleas in favor of grabbing his cane. "I'm not interested in hearing your sob story." 

Klaus looks to his siblings the ones who know it wasn't his fault. Ben looks away, Five sips his water, and Luther gives him a smug smile. 

"I'm not telling you one." Klaus said as Reginald grasped his hand and pulled him along.

"Yes- you most certainly are." Of course Reginald doesn't believe him, it does seem like something he would do. Half the time he can't even find his socks so leaving the stove on is in the realm of possibility.

Each step is a familiar step and he knows when he's dragged to the back door why. His father opens the door pushes him outside and shuts it. The lock clicks and his father walks away.

This is solitary as his father likes to call it. He sighs and kicks up dirt before sitting down on the hard dirt ground. He digs his hands in the frozen soil, his bland bitten down nails can barely make marks. So he pushes harder and attempts to make little lines and with each one he curses Allison underneath his breath.

By the seventh line his right pointer finger's tip is scratch up and it's little red beads of blood provide a nice shade of color to paint with. The cut stings when pressed against the dirt but the lines of color he's managed to draw are therapeutic.

He puts his head on his knees and continues drawing lines in the dirt.

————————————————————

Diego has a nice little white bandage wrapped around his hand and is enjoying Grace's motherly worrying. She has put ointment on it twice today and has checked on him numerous times. She's a worry wort but it's almost always directed towards Diego.

Lucky him.

After giving his brother a kiss on the forehead and him a pat on the back she leaves them be. Diego immediately squats by his bed and reaches underneath for a bag-full of a small assortment of candy. The reward for being a mammas boy. 

Diego tosses him a lollipop, and he catches it. "Where's my apology?" Diego says standing up right before taking a seat on his bed.

"You aren't getting one." Klaus said ripping the wrapper off the lollipop and throwing it in the waste can. "Ask Allison for one, it was her fault." 

"Sure it was." Diego said sticking his own lollipop in his mouth. "You know real men own up to their mistakes." Klaus bit down on his lollipop and the grape flavored tip shatters in his mouth. 

"Is that so?" He mutters sucking the all the grape flavor he could despite the fact that it's his least favorite flavor. Each time he tastes it all he can do is think that he's taking medicine because grape is the standard flavor.

It's taste is enough to make his stomach drop.

————————————————————

He's an imbecile and somehow he can accept that more rationally than the fact that he isn't a real man. Something about the latter just irks him in a bad way. In one of those ways that he's declines to think about for long periods of time. 

"Cooking seems kinda...scary?" Vanya said a hand in front of her chest and her eyes never staying locked with his for long. She didn't like prolonged eye contact, nor really being the center of attention. He respects that for the most part although he can't really say that he feels the same way.

"I guess? It can be dangerous." Klaus said offhandedly before rolling over to face the back of the couch. He closes his eyes and enjoys the silence although it's the only thing he ever listens to. "Just ask Diego." He mumbles unsure if his sister is even listening anymore.

"I'm not that cruel." She said, her voice tapering off at the end before seemly she starts walking away. He blows a breath out and opens his eyes listening to her steps. A nice melody to drown out the sound of silence even if it wouldn't last long. It's a strange thing to be grateful for but he is.

But all good things come to an end, he knows that, and the worst part is the sound of breaking glass, it's crackling cry as his sister's mumbled yell cuts through the air. He turns his head and looks at the mess she made, shattered pieces of a blue vase lay on the floor, the desk that it used to sit on wobbling, and his sister's widen eyes.

She keeps looking between the desk and the vase as if that could fix it. He knows well enough that it doesn't help. He rubs a hand over his face before sitting up, his head pounding, and his throat dry. "Don't get upset about it." He said standing up while she didn't even acknowledge his words.

"I'm serious." He said walking toward her with his arm extended before placing it against her arm. She jumps, and turns her head toward him, her eyes glisten with forming tears, and her lips are slightly open. "Don't cry, it was ugly anyway." He tried to comfort her by rubbing his thumb in circles against her but she didn't seem to register it.

"But...father liked-" she started but he wasn't interested in hearing it. Hearing her try to reason that this vase, a simple blue vase that is probably just a cheap decoration is worth getting upset about. 

Accidents happen, he knows.

"Shhh." He shushes her before giving her a soft smile. "I'll get the broom." And he does, he walks to the kitchen, picks up a old wooden broom-one that should have probably been upgraded long ago- and heads back to the living room only stopping when he notices his father talking to Vanya.

Her lips move, her voice barely reaches his ears but he knows what she's doing. She's lying, acting like she hadn't broken this stupid vase, this vase that was worth nothing. She is afraid of being punished and that drives her to do things that she isn't proud of. At least she's the only one who acts like she cares after making it seem like he's one big idiot.

"Klaus didn't mean to." She said looking at him, a hand clenched in her skirt with a sad tilt to her head as if she's silently apologizing to him for throwing him underneath the bus. Reginald turns to him, looks at the broom in his hand, and then toward the mess on the floor before looking back towards him.

"Clean this mess up." Reginald instructs turning his simple gaze into a glare that sends hot flashes up his back. He shouldn't feel this way, he shouldn't be the one forced to clean up, but he knows his father isn't really interested in listening to his side of the story.

"Now, Four."

He sighs and starts to clean up the glass. He moves it all in one pile than clicks the dust pan off the broom and starts pushing it inside until the floor is more or less clean. To his standards anyway, unless his father complained Grace could handle the rest.

His father didn't complain, no, probably because he wants to start his punishment sooner than later. "Come now Four, we've got things to do." No, they didn't, not today. It was Ben's training day, not his, but now it is all because Vanya opened her mouth.

He's angry, more at himself than her because he is too passive, too stupid to really fight it.

He lets himself take his sibling's scoldings because he's weak. He knows, he's been told, and despite that he hates himself. Only idiots get caught up in things like this.

————————————————————

"No!" Ben said pulling the pill bottle out of his grasp. He glares at his brother, can't help but feel that feeling of betrayal running through his veins but then it mellows out into a silent burning.

He doesn't fight with Ben, not like he normally does because he doesn't feel like it. He Doesn't want to entertain some idea that he can just forget, just float off into la la land without some consequences. Stupid, weak, and irresponsible are all things he hears when he downs pills and even if the words are true they still hurt. 

It hurts his heart so much that he can't even do it. Take another pill because that hurts more. It hurts so much more because that bottle is empty and he wishes it wasn't.

"Huh?" Ben said realization falling over his face as he shakes the bottle, nothing rattles inside.

"I've dumped them." He mumbles unable to come to terms with his brother's confusion. He should be happy, ecstatic that he isn't taking anything right now but instead he just looks at him as if he's pitying him.

————————————————————

"Why must you do this Four?" His father drawls on, gesturing to a hole in the hallway. A hole that was definitely made by his knife throwing brother and not himself but apparently he did it. "What is your problem lately?" His father said with this tone as if he was truly wondering but he isn't.

His father doesn't really care- only giving him a warning disguised as a caring conversation.

"Nothing." He said, staring at the deepness of the hole, and wondering if it was done on purpose. If it wasn't just thrown but pushed through the wooden wall. "It won't happen again."

"It shouldn't have happened in the first place." Reginald said as if he just thought he want around stabbing holes in the wall because he felt like it. News flash: he had nothing to do with this and if his father cared more he'd look at his precious cameras so he'd know.

"Sorry."

Once again he takes the blame for one of his siblings; a scapegoat is all he’s ever been.


End file.
